


Ataxia By Proxy

by Signalius (Twiranux)



Series: Scandent Emotions [2]
Category: Vinesauce (Video Blogging RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, Breakfast, Cock Tease, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut, Mornings, Movie Night, Power Play, Roughhousing, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twiranux/pseuds/Signalius
Summary: “Did we...y’know—” Vinny touches the tips of his index fingers together repeatedly. His eyes helplessly roam down, the towel remaining obligated to blocking the view any further below the waist. However, his perverse curiosity gets the better of him still, imagination stirring in his head. To think of all the things Vin could easily forget, Joel's nether regions would not be on that list.“What?!” Joel takes a deep breath, collecting himself. Biting his tongue for a short moment, he refuses to answer the exact question. "We were drunk last night, that—""One sec, hold on to that thought. I'll be right back.”Ataxia: In reference to pathology, "irregularity in the functions of the body." [Awkwardness, chaos, disorder].
Relationships: Joel Varg Johansson/Vinny
Series: Scandent Emotions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612537
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Morning Afterthought

Smog emanates from the hustling city below, creating a familiar dim layer above—the light coming through a bit hazy—yet the sunrise manages to break through, passing the blinds, and then lastly scattering around the bedroom. The man on the bed breathes slowly yet consistently, his face buried into a pillow. A single snore slips out; such vibration in his throat causes the edges of his cognizance to switch on. Gradually, Vinny turns his head to get more air. His left arm reaches out, clutching at the blanket, with something he couldn’t quite recognize, stuffed and hidden underneath. His chest brushes onto the soft linen, his exposed bosom sending tingles up and down the rest of his body. After a light touch, traversing diagonally, Vinny’s consciousness notices a discrepancy within his sleeping routine. His instinct causes him to grasp sharply, his eyelids pulling back and stirring a sudden panic within. Barely awake, Vinny somehow forces himself to sit upright while struggling to steady his breath. With strained eyes, he looks down at his bare chest: despite going to bed every night with a shirt on, here he is waking up without the presence of one. His voice hangs mid-tone, not certain how to react at first.

“I mean, it is warmer than usual in here, huh…” Vinny mumbles to himself, running his hands languidly through his hair.

Sweeping around his bed sheets for his phone, he sighs in relief when pushing the covers off of his legs and finding himself still in his own boxers. Turning his head left and right, looking at his nightstand and dresser respectively, he finally spots his phone, plainly idle and charging—and nothing else seemed out of place, reassured not everything had mysteriously disappeared overnight—he rises up completely, his shoulder muscles sending a cascade of sensation down his back. Vinny groans, routinely both aware and ignorant of his morning wood, legs steady enough and upright, opposed to the slouch beginning to form around the upper torso. 

Wiping away the tiredness off of his face, he trudges out the bedroom—one hand covering mostly his eyes, the other leaning against the already open bedroom door for a moment to stabilize himself—by memory alone, he manages to navigate through the living room and into the kitchen. Letting out a yawn, Vinny opens one of the kitchen drawers, thinking about which utensils to grab.

Just then, he hears a considerably loud thud. Eyeing at the open drawer, Vinny quickly pieces together that the sound is not something he caused. Startled at the idea of something unknown within his apartment, he rushes over near the source of the noise to see just what the hell is going on.

The bathroom door opens wide; a practically naked Joel steps out, with the only exception being a towel wrapped around his lower region.

“Uhm…what?” Vin squeaks confusingly, scratching his head at the sight.

"Of all the times you could've woken up!" Joel huffs quickly, his mind in fragments from the unexpected onlooker.

Something clicks together in Vinny's mind, now compelled to walk around the main area of his apartment, piecing together the context clues: an open and unorganized suitcase, an extra jacket—jet black and consisting of leather—on his coat hanger, worn out boots still damp from last night, a couple of bottles and cans cluttering the hard floor, and even a small spill of what looks to be alcohol on his coffee table that dried up overnight. A general sense of disarray had began to creep into his homestead due to Joel's most recent arrival.

“Did we...y’know—” Vinny touches the tips of his index fingers together repeatedly. His eyes helplessly roam down, the towel remaining obligated to blocking the view any further below the waist. However, his perverse curiosity gets the better of him still, imagination stirring in his head. To think of all the things Vin could easily forget, Joel's nether regions would not be on that list.

“What?!” Joel takes a deep breath, collecting himself. Biting his tongue for a short moment, he refuses to answer the exact question. "We were drunk last night, that—"

"One sec, hold on to that thought. I'll be right back.”

Vin maneuvers his personage back to his bedroom, picking up a shirt that is on the edge of his bed which he hadn't noticed before. While putting it on clumsily, he walks the perimeter of the bedroom. His investigation pays off, now realizing the mysterious object he was previously clutching at: a number of pillows resembling a figure of sorts. With newfound information and adequately clothed, he paces back into the living room.

“Joel, was that supposed to be body pillow of yoursel—" 

“Uh, Vinny?” Joel spouts out, interrupting the other man suddenly.

“What?”

Joel frantically points down, just past Vinny’s periphery by a little bit. Following the implicit guidance, Vinny's face turning crimson at the awkward sight of his half-chub pushing up and in contact with his boxers, thus grazing against the hem of the shirt that doesn't even belong to him.

“Oh...W-well what're you looking down there for?” Vinny chokes a bit on his own words, promptly doubting who between the two is in the more compromising situation.

“Seriously?! That's **my shirt** you're rubbing **your cock** all over! W-w-whatever, dumb fuck.” Joel rummages through his luggage case, pulling out a seemingly identical black t-shirt along with a pair of underwear. 

"Wait, don't you want this one back? I can just throw it in the laundry and we can pretend none of this happened." Attempting to look the least bit presentable, Vinny pulls the shirt down as far as possible without overstretching it, covering his crotch as appropriately as he could.

"No _, nej nej, nej_ , that's still fuckin’ disgusting." Joel shakes his head, loose shower droplets flinging wildly off of his locks of hair. 

"Oh but it's okay that you're literally using one of **my towels** for **your cock** right now,” Vinny shrugs. “So it's even—we're even."

Taken aback by the unfolding of events, Joel struggles to put on his underwear while trying not to accidentally flash Vinny, whom didn't so much as move away as an act of basic courtesy. Unwieldy grunts slip from Joel’s throat as he successfully gets both of his legs into undergarments, and then pajama pants immediately after.

"I say just incinerate it all." Joel recommends, wiping away the beads of water dribbling down his forehead as he slips into his t-shirt. Finally wearing some clothes, Joel removes the towel without further worry.

"Joel, I have access to a washing machine and a dryer. You won’t even be able to tell apart our combined sweat and the laundry water afterwards.”

"I'm gonna fucking vomit before we even get to eat breakfast, Jesus Christ."

“Speaking of which..." Vinny disengages physically, approaching the combined dining and kitchen area. Picking up air-tight container, he shakes it around watching assorted corn flakes and granola bits tumble around. "Mixed cereal?"

"The fuck are you talking about, ‘mixed’? As in nails and toothpaste? Nah-uh." Joel looks at Vinny in disbelief, then opens the fridge door, rummaging inside for a couple of minutes. He sighs in relief when he spots something worth bringing out. "Thank God there's actual food. We're not gonna eat that sugary cardboard shite you call cereal.”

Joel begins to open the upper and lower kitchen cabinets, eventually finding a pan and some cooking oil. He sets the carton of eggs down, double checking his inventory. Following a mental basic checklist, Joel places a couple of bread slices into the toaster oven. 

“Now watch how a master does it."

Vinny watches passively yet contently, resting his chin on the back of his hand. He then realizes that his phone was still plugged in the bedroom and needed to catch up on the endless emails and messages, yet couldn’t get himself to fetch it as he was far too entranced by Joel’s sublime cooking skills. He could watch that dumb ol’ Swede for hours on end, observing all of the times he furrows his brows in reaction to something or curse something in Swedish under his breath.

“After breakfast, Switch?” Joel attempts to shift back into a casual air of conversation.

“Who--I mean, what?” Vinny shakes his head to refocus his mind. He slaps his face lightly using both hands, blubbering out nonsensical words.

“Oh lord. Nintendo Switch, Vinny. Stop being so horny!”

“Y-yeah, I’ll snap out of...whatever this is.” Vinny gets up from the dining chair, purposely distancing himself from Joel.

He sits on the couch, pressing the on button on the TV remote. The TV turns on to Netflix, as Vinny picks his profile. A rom-com titled Kissing Booth takes up a majority of his home page, with the lower components showcasing recommendations inaccurate and unpalatable to his taste. Vinny notes the view bar practically at the end, with the words ‘Resume’ encapsulated in a semi-vibrant red taunting him.

"Okay, what the fuck happened last night, there's got to be some explanation to all this."

* * *


	2. Tolerance Level

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before, now revealed and clarified. Acting first only as supplementary, this chapter is actually now serving as more rich fiction. 
> 
> The italicized Swedish are accompanied with subscripts, of which at the end are footnoted with translations.

"So, how about we just, I don’t know, hang out here for the night?" Vinny paces in front of the TV, his arm vaguely gesturing. "I was thinking of putting on movies or we could play games, something entertaining.”

"Hm, yeah; been a long day, mhm." Joel nods along to each suggestion, twiddling his thumbs while noting Vinny’s motor tics. 

"I think I saw something about Netflix recently, apparently there's new movies on there? Let's see."

With the remote in his hand, Vinny falls back onto the soft cushioning of his living room couch, leaving almost no space between him and Joel. He lets out a groan as the program asks for his login information, even though Vinny clearly recalls fixing the login issue months ago now.

"Sure, yea—fuck, I keep repeating myself. It's like I'm in a giant feedback loop because I've been anxious all day."

"I get what you mean, you're alright. Besides, at least now we get to chill," Vinny replies, scrolling both up and down as well as left and right through his 'My List' and other categories. "Oh right, the new releases."

"Wait, what was that you just scrolled past?" Joel vaguely points to the TV.

"Oh, you mean this one? This one called...Kissing Booth?" Vinny reads through the summary in his head and glances over at the duration.

"It screams 'not great', love it! And that girl, wasn't she in that Slenderman movie thing?" Joel taps his index finger against his bottom lip, unsure of his memory recalling skills.

"I think so. Joel, are you telling me this is the movie you wanna go with for tonight?"

"I mean, just take a good look at the preview!" 

The two sit in stunned silence as the preview for the movie plays, talking over the trailer announcer with witty criticism.

"You're right. Low hanging fruit like this will do," Vinny comments, choosing to play the flick, then putting down the remote on the coffee table. "But, let's kick this up a notch."

Vinny gets up from the couch, and walks over to his fridge. From there he grabs two cases of beer, one consisting of cans, and the other bottles. He sits back on the couch, placing the cases on opposite ends of the coffee table in front of them.

"Oh hell yeah," Joel cheers, grabbing a can from the case. He quickly prys it open, swallowing practically all of the contents inside in a single gulp.

"Hey, check this out. Before you go asking for a bottle opener, take a look." Vinny picks up one of the beer bottles, and holds it in view. He then demonstrates how to open such a bottle, twisting off the cap with his palm. Pulling the bottle close to his lips, Vinny swallows the beer slowly and deliberately, drinking about a quarter of the liquid before stopping. "See? Easy."

"Oh, nice! I've seen a couple of those twist-offs before. I always forget because I'm so used to just using the bottle opener on my keychain." Joel snags another beer can, pulling the tab up and drinking with little hesitation.

Vinny rations his first beer over the course of 30 minutes, while Joel was racing to get drunk as fast as possible. The two make fun of the film extremely often, finding the plot development to be too cliche, even for a rom-com. On top of the already existing problems, the hokey acting and line delivery sends Joel and Vinny on a laughing fit, not due to comedic value, but rather from the poor quality being shown. Halfway through the film, Joel is on his 5th beer, having downed 3 cans and 1 bottle, with another bottle already in his hand; Vinny, on the other hand, had been nonchalantly working on the last of his 4th drink for the past 15 minutes. The discrepancy in amount mattered none, as the two were equally getting close to shit-faced, having little control over the volume of their voices when speaking, yet still coherent.

"Goddamn cuck," Vinny shouts at one of the side characters on screen.

"V-Vinny, you're saying...that he has a relationship, y'know, to be cucked in," Joel points out, half-assing an easy low blow to a fictional character.

"He's a third wheel, that is a friend equivalent of a fuck—I mean cuck," Vinny explains as he finishes his beer.

Joel rests his head on Vinny's shoulder, making muffled and incoherent sounds at the TV. Vinny attempts to set up jokes, but loses his train of thought every time Joel repositions, with each distraction changing his focus more on the comforting feeling of being close to someone. The next few scenes of the movie pass on with no reaction from the two, but then Vinny realizes that Joel could have fallen asleep.

"You're way too drunk...and this fucking movie…" Vinny trails off, forgetting the point he previously had in mind.

"Me, drunk? No way! And of course it's dumb as shit! Real life is in no way like Piss—I mean Kissing Booth." Joel swings his bottle of beer around, chortling at both the sheer existence of the movie and at himself, feeling every twitch of his muscles with a delayed, secondary feeling.

"You definitely have a point somewhere in there,” Vinny raises his eyebrow. 

Vinny pulls away to place down his now empty bottle near the edge of the coffee table, causing Joel to retreat on purpose. He then changes his focus onto Joel. A passing glance turns into a locked in moment, as Joel gazes upon Vinny’s face. 

"Vinny, kiss me," Joel pleads, softening up his glare by relaxing his facial muscles.

"Wait what, why?" Vinny finds himself more curious at the suggestion than he'd admit.

"B-because I'd rather have us kiss than to keep watching this God awful movie," Joel speaks his mind honestly.

"You're for real?"

"Y-yeah. What's the matter? No one is watching. A-and it's not like we're gonna make out! Just...a quick one." Putting his beer aside, Joel scoots his body closer, his heart racing faster and faster.

"This isn't some new age method of blackmail I don’t know about, is it?"

"W-what? N-no, not at all!" Joel stammers, shaking his head. "Just...I want to?"

Even though Joel is the one to make the verbal first move, Vinny is the one to lean in, observing Joel's drunken restlessness. He could feel his bottom lip twitch at the thought of kissing, equal parts nervousness and anticipation. Vinny closes his eyes, and doesn't so much as second-guess what he is getting himself into.

Joel lets out a small squeak at the moment he feels Vinny's lips on his; the soft and inviting moment envelopes Joel's mind space, effectively doubling the hazy emotions running rampant through his head. Being overwhelmed by his own mind, Joel pulls away.

"See, see...n-no sparks flying or whatever else, fuckin' dumbass movie. Zero out of ten!" The words pour out of Joel's mouth within the same moment his brain could string them together.

"I guess not. The only things flying are a kiss for you and insults toward the movie, maybe," Vinny looks over to the TV, barely understanding any of the film anymore.

"Kisses don't fly, Vinny! Th-they are transferred by the lips, through the contact….of the lips."

"What are you talking about? Have you never kissed the palm of your hand and blow on it after, as to, I don't know, maybe send a flying kiss?" Vinny visually demonstrates what he is explaining.

"Oh, fuck off. I'll send you a kiss this time, alright."

With clumsy balance, Joel knocks over a couple empty beer cans, along with an empty beer bottle.

“Gah, whatever,” Joel groans, rotating his wrist, his hand waving limply. “That beer? Erh, tasted like shite anyway.”

“Thank god those were empty; do you know how fucking annoying it is to clean this rug?” Vinny points to the carpet beneath their feet, giving a sigh of relief.

“ _Ingen ko på isen¹…_ ” Joel mumbles into his hands, rubbing at his cheeks as to fight against further inebriation. Pulling his hands away, he turns to look at Vinny square on. 

Watching Joel slowly lessen the space between them, Vinny's breathing quickens, panic shooting down his spine, to his extremities; his fingers curl, grasping into the seat cushion—he blinks rapidly, otherwise paralyzed by anxiousness. Although he had just given a smooch, this new perspective of receiving one causes Vinny to feel all tingly.

Joel hovers close, cupping Vinny's face with his hands, their noses touching. The Swede chuckles—his breath hot and fizzy, their respective facial hair brushing against one another—and finally, goes in for the kiss. Compared to the last, the two found themselves easing into it more effortlessly, as Joel deepens the kiss confidently, and Vinny humming in approval. Pressing his lips more and more, Joel rests his hands on top of Vinny's, lightly squeezing at the wrists.

Suddenly, Joel stops his advancements; a wave of slight drowsiness moving across his entire person. Mustering the will to end the moment, Joel eases off, drawing the kiss to a stop. Vinny's eyes flutter open, seeing Joel with a wide grin.

"Yep, you've got that shite taste too. _Skit öl²_ , _amen_ _va'fan³_!" Joel's voice resonates the vowel sounds loudly, reverberating against the apartment walls. He repeats the strung together Swedish profanities in his head, breaking into giddy laughter.

Joel then partially bends over, picking up the bottle on the floor, and places it down—onto its side—on the coffee table.

“Uh…” Vinny licks his lips. “Oh man...Joel.”

“Huh, what?” Joel swings around exaggeratedly in his drunken haze.

“Maybe it’s just the alcohol...but, I liked kissing you just then,” Vinny confesses, clasping his hands together, trying not to excessively fidget.

“Oh...oh? I could s-say the same.” Joel places his hand on Vinny’s back, grappling at the man's shirt with a tight fist, imagining it much more affectionate when played out in his mind.

“Good, yeah.” Vinny finishes the last swig from the beer bottle on the table, wiping at the excess with his sleeve. 

"Finally, movie's fucking over!" Joel raises a fist up in the air for a few seconds, proclaiming victory over surviving the film.

Joel struggles a bit with the remote, his stubborn fingers seemingly suspended in slow motion. After messing with numerical buttons and the volume control, he presses the power button, with the movie still rolling down the credits; the TV makes a short digital ring as it turns off.

"Let's go to bed," Joel states, getting up off the couch. 

"I mean, I'm not that tir—" 

Vinny gets cut short on the rest of this sentence as he feels Joel completely overpowering him; Joel tugs on Vinny's right arm, throwing his momentum off of the couch, forcing Vinny to stand up. Joel then bends forward a bit, as to line up his shoulders properly—placing his left arm between Vinny's legs, grasping at Vinny's knee with his hand and throwing Vinny's entire weight across his shoulders. Joel secures Vinny's upper half by holding Vinny's right arm with his right hand—finalizing a robust fireman's carry.

"I didn't ask, let's fuckin' go." 

Joel huffs, taking slow yet firm steps toward the bedroom. After getting close enough to the bed, he swings his left arm over his head—applying the same force onto Vinny's lower body—and simultaneously guiding the rest of Vinny's body to follow through as his back collides with the bed.

"Fuckin' suplex!" Joel howls.

"Actually...body slam." 

Vinny gasps for breath, his chest being compressed so suddenly almost knocked him out. Shaking his head, Vinny whips his hair away from his eyes and face, looking upon Joel's silhouette towering over his laying body. 

"Never doing that again, fuck..." Joel sighs, stretching out his shoulders and upper back.

"When the fuck were you able to pull that shit?"

"Drunk superpowers, man."

"Okay, I'll accept that answer. But putting me literally in bed doesn't automatically make me tired, you ass," Vinny quips, rolling his eyes mockingly.

"Even after all those fuckin' drinks?" Fighting through the alcohol, he recalls the surprising amount of booze the two of them ingested within a short period of time.

Vinny hums in affirmation, accompanying his response with a nod of his head.

Joel lifts his lower body onto the bed, bracing up the rest of his weight through kneeling, restraining Vinny in between his legs. He then grabs at Vinny's wrists, clutching tightly at first, but then just snugly enough as to not inflict pain.

"Oh God, Joel, what are you doing?" Vinny yelps.

Upon a sudden rise of heart rate, Vinny draws in deep breaths through his mouth, keen on not turning over to hyperventilation. Reacting to the loss of personal boundaries, his upper muscles tense up, juxtaposed with the wiggling of his fingers briskly—to combat being put on edge.

With unwavering eyes, Joel examines the man beneath him, the contrast between tone of voice and body language piquing his interest.

"Well, you said you weren't tired...yet…" Joel trails off, symmetrically running both of his thumbs down a small stretch of Vinny's wrist on each side. Smiling mischievously, he leans in as close as possible while maintaining eye contact.

Vinny gulps audibly, refusing the alluring temptation of reckless abandon. Affixing to Joel's deep blue eyes, he manages to calm his breathing—noticing the physical stillness of both their bodies, distinct from the mental chaos and noise—wanting to speak but now hesitant to break the silence. His intellect and intuition were at odds, translating outwardly as minuscule sighs or agile blinks.

"You stay put for one second," Joel commands, pulling his head away. 

Letting go of Vinny's wrists, he shifts his weight onto his lower back, settling directly onto Vinny's waist. Joel covers his mouth with his elbow as he yawns, interjecting random sounds as to further loosen his jaw. Using both hands, Joel pulls on the back of his collar, completely taking his shirt off. 

"Holy shit, Joel."

Vinny's genuine impression escapes his lips before his mind could process a formal thought—his mouth slightly ajar, his fingers slightly grasping, his eyes roaming up and down—no longer able to hold himself back, and moaning the Swede's name in a pleading manner. Joel was mostly hairless, with a couple patches of body hair settled on his upper torso, as well as below his belly button, above his pants. Vinny had never been so surprised to see another person's body before. Years of knowing Joel, both the online persona and the real human behind it and Vinny never expected to find himself getting so intimately close.

"What? Am I as fat as you imagined?" Joel asks, looking down at his own body.

"N-no, I like what's going on here. I...I like what I see." Vinny fumbles with his sincerity.

With a sharp gasp, he quickly recognizes the awkward happenstance, and scrambles to remove his own shirt. Pulling off the clothing, Vinny then flings it backwards, getting it caught on the headboard accidentally.

"What do you think is going on right now?" In astonishment, Joel purses his lips and furrows his brows.

"Uh, I don't know, maybe spell it out for me? My mind is occupied...with other thoughts right now," Vinny confesses, licking his lips once more.

"I was taking my shirt off t-to—because I sleep shirtless; it helps me sleep, nothing more! W-why'd you even take your shirt off?!"

"Fuck...you're a terrible liar." Vinny begins to visibly sweat from embarrassment; his knees start to twitch—along with the rest of his legs—causing his hips to buck up against Joel.

"V-Vinny! What the hell?!" Joel hollers, muffling his whimpering by shutting his mouth altogether.

"Sorry, can't help it." Vinny struggles to regain his still composure, but to no avail. "Fuck, Joel...you've got me all...hot and bothered; wasn't my fault that you chose to practically straddle on top of me and get shirtless!"

"I-I was teasing, m-m-messing with you! I wasn't actually going to—I mean...Jesus Christ!" Joel exclaims, remaining stubborn, on top of Vinny despite the situation.

"Oh, teasing, huh?" No longer able to restrain himself, and with Joel showing some weakness, Vinny clutches at Joel's sides, near the waist, his fingernails slightly sinking into flesh. "Like this? Where’s your drunk bravado now?"

Joel grunts at the contact of robust hands onto his sensitive mid-to-lower torso.

"C-cut it out, Vinny!"

"If you're serious, I'll stop." Vinny reassures in a soft-spoken manner, releasing some of the tension in his grip. Part of him meant what he stated, while the rest of him hopes reverse psychology could take effect.

"It's just...eh, h-how do I say this?" Joel nervously touches the bottom of his chin with his right hand, running the tips of his fingers against his facial hair. "I like pushing you around verbally a little, y'know? Seeing you thrown off by my antics, and you hold back on your frustration...I can’t get enough of it.”

Vinny hums at the barrage of compliments, moving his hands from Joel’s sides up to the tummy.

"And also, I-I've never really...done it with a guy at all before, the kissing earlier included," Joel mutters, his voice almost at a whisper.

"Neither have I." Vinny chuckles lightly, with both familiar and newfound emotions twisting and turning deep within his core. 

"Are we...A-am I moving too fast? My dumb and drunk brain, it's just—"

"Joel. It's okay, really, it is. We don't have to jump right into it if you aren't comfortable." Vinny pulls his hands away, bringing them further up to brush the back of his hand to brush against Joel's cheek, gently moving his thumb back and forth as a means of comfort. "So tell me, what are you comfortable with right now?"

"L-let me think about it."

Joel shuffles off of Vinny, settling himself on the bed instead. He bites on his lower lip for a moment, as a completely different side of his personality begins to show forth. Taking a deep breath, he takes his right hand and rests it on Vinny's chest.

"I do want you, in one way or another. I'd like to be close to you and...uh...m-maybe look at each other's cocks? I-I'm not ready for all that shit I see in porn just yet," Joel requests.

"I wouldn't mind that. And of course, porn is mostly a fucking fantasy anyways; literally and metaphorically." Vinny scoffs, his mind wandering from Joel and instead piecing together an entire argumentative thesis about pornography. 

Vinny looks straight up at the ceiling, too embarrassed to glance at anything vaguely reminding him of his corporeal state. He lifts his hips up off of the bed, pushing his grey boxers down and exposing his dick. Slowly, he situates his hand at the base, holding himself as upright as he could. He looks back down, now observing Joel strip off his own boxers; the Swede's erection is as evident as it was with the underwear on.

"Nice. I mean your dick, it's nice to look at." Vinny works out his words of encouragement.

"Thanks I guess? Yours is good too, like a firecracker ready to be lit up." Joel stifles back his laughter, shaking his head at his own remark. 

"Are you saying that my dick is gonna explode any minute now?"

" _Nej⁴_! It's just...so straight!"

"Good word choice." Vinny snickers. "...now what?"

"I don't know, I've never done this!" 

"How about a sword fight?" Vinny offers.

" _Nej_! _Nej,_ absolutely not!" Joel pulls his boxers back up, careful not to graze the cloth against his hard on.

"Hold on, you're not gonna take care of....that? I mean, you're allowed to, just...don't stain my bed."

"I can't. W-whiskey dick, man," Joel hiccups, dehydration creeping up his system.

"I don't think you know what that means, Joel. I mean, I've seen it, that's not whiskey dick," Vinny chuckles in between words, sitting up with both his hands supporting his weight. He snaps his fingers a couple of times, then points to the mini-fridge beside his bedside table. 

"What, y-you wanna do something about it?!" Joel heads over to where Vinny is pointing, and grabs a water bottle out of the mini-fridge. He twists open the cap, and gulps down over half of the liquid.

"With that tone, I don't think I want to anymore." Vinny smirks.

"Fuck you," Joel groans sarcastically, gargling on some of the water left in his throat. 

"Maybe some other time if you're feeling lucky." Vinny grabs his phone on his bedside table, absentmindedly scrolling down social media feeds. "And I have a feeling it's going to be soon."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹: There's no cow on the ice. || Meaning: Don't worry [about it].  
> ²: Shit beer.  
> ³: What the hell!  
> ⁴: No!  
> You might be asking me, "Hey, why not reverse the chapter order?" Simple, I never planned for a second chapter.  
> And yes, you're seeing this right, a Kissing Booth 2 is in the works.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due: Zyblix, my spouse, edited the Kissing Booth movie poster into a JoJo continuation meme while I was working on this fic. Bless their heart. If you've the time, go watch this...masterpiece?


End file.
